Mission Impossible
by TheDeliquent9
Summary: Sansa sets out on a almost impossible task. Make Sandor Clegane laugh. Fluffy, fic because after being depressed from reading the actual books, you need fanfiction to make G.R.R.M stop torturing your soul. SanSan.


It was just a glimpse. A speckle of light that had endeavoured its way to her. Even though it only occured when she had fallen off her horse and tumbled into the snow. Even if it was gone after one blink. It was still there.

And the pulling at her heart strings overwhelmed her. A tumbled of joy that melted the snow in her hair and all around her for miles to come.

The image of Sandor Clegane. Laughing. Smiling. Heartfelt and true.

And that's when she knew she _had_ to see it again. No matter what.

If you asked Sansa Stark about her relationship with Sandor Clegane she would be able to properly describe it. He had once cut through a mob just to reach her. He had once offered to take her away from the hell she had lived in. He helped her escape from a marriage she had never wanted. And finally the man who never took any oath, vowed to protect her and only her as her sworn shield for the years to come.

But as years went by there was still that unyielding distance between them. Every time she reached for his hand, stroked his face asked him to stay a little longer in her presence she would be given curt courteously and a hasty departure. This befuddled her as she knew he did have feelings for her. She was not the same sweet innocent little bird anymore and she had learned to read the subconscious actions of those who surround her to gain insight on their character and often she had caught the brutish warrior staring at her a little too long in not the most chaste manner. This told her than he did in fact see her as a woman and the occasional fond and gentle smiles assured her it was something more than physical interest which bound him to her.

But Sandor never failed to frequent whorehouses and she knew that abstinence was not something he participated in, however something Sansa did fail to notice was these frequents to brothels often coincided with the days he gave her long and yearning stares.

Enthralled by the thought of making Sandor laugh brought on a wave of enthusiasm which soon consumed the woman. She started to compile the different ways to make someone laugh. Jokes were always a good tactic to spur on laughter. Tickling was another method as well. Suddenly Sansa imagined tickling the Hound, fingers to his waist in order to extract those simple breathless moments of laughter. She found herself blushing at the idea of her hands on his waist.

_No. No... A joke is the way to go. Besides I don't even know if he is ticklish or not_ she told herself and then busied herself with finding an appropriate joke.

That evening after supper, Sandor as usual escorted her back to her chambers to retire. Every step of the way Sansa had to control herself from giggling at her own joke. When they arrived at her door Sandor opened it for her to step into but she stood there in front of him, smiling gently.

"Sandor?"

"Yes?" asked Clegane suspicious.

"Why did the chicken cross the Wall?" she asked benevolently.

"What?"

"Why did the chicken cross the Wall?"

"Buggering hells, how should I know Little Bird?" he barked, shifting uncomfortably at her strange behaviour.

"It's meant to be a joke"

"It's ridiculous"

"Sandor"

"Go to bed Little Bird"

"Sandor, please" she begged with eyes beaming wide. For a moment Sandor believed her could drown in those bright blue eyes.

"Fine. I don't know why did the chicken cross the Wall, Little Bird?" he obeyed mocking interest.

"To get away from the _Other_ chicken" Sansa said giggling slightly.

For a moment they stood in silence as Sandor stared at her stoically. Soon the amusement that she had found in the joke was gone and she pouted as he continued to have no reaction to her efforts. After what seemed an eternity he finally raised his hand to her forehead and pressed his palm across her skin.

"I'm not sick!" Sansa exclaimed pushing his hand away, missing the warmth it brought as soon as she did.

"I think you are Little Bird"

"I thought of that joke just for you"

"Aye. Exactly why something is wrong with you. Now go on to bed and find someone else to torture with you worthless jokes. Don't waste your time on me" he brushed her of and gently pushed her into the room. Sansa felt herself flush at his rejection.

Before he close the door on her she pleaded one more time.

"I only wanted to make you laugh" she confessed as the door was halfway close. He stopped and sighed.

"Leave that talk for when you're asleep Little Bird" he told her and shut the door without another word.

Was she disheartened?

Yes.

Did she feel giving up?

Yes.

But was she going to give up?

No.

_I am a Stark of Winterfell. I'm not going to give up that easily. If he won't laugh at my jokes I'll tickle him. Yes, I'll tickle him until he dies with laughter._

Unfortunately for Sandor, Sansa started to compile her plans and tactics as she lay in bed that night.

Renewed with enthusiasm Sansa spent the next day imagining the conquest that would occur.

Once again after supper, Sandor escorted her to her chambers. Like usual he opened the door. As normal she entered. He closed the door as he normally would but she held it back before he could.

"Oh Sandor, it is not so late yet, why don't you keep me some company before I go to sleep" she said so quaintly. Sandor looked at her confused and surprised.

"Little Bird, I think you are still sick" he answered as he tried to pry her fingers away from the door. She grabbed his hand instead and pulled him in.

"Nonsense _ser_, I just want a little company before retiring, and we've known each other for so long that I'm sure we'll find some amiable to topic to converse about for half of an hour or so" she stated as she pulled him in.

Bewildered by her actions Sandor forgot to resist and soon he was in her chambers, gaping like an idiot while she barred the door. Sansa had barred it as quickly as possible not wanting him to swing it open and leave her. She leaned against it, blocking his way just in case.

Sandor looked at her trying to read her actions but she just smiled, all too polite in her manner of speaking and actions, which made him even more concerned.

"Please sit" she said, more of a request than a offer, as she gestured to two seats at the fire place. Sandor was horrified to find that everything had been set up, nice and ordered. He knew her room and normally those two chairs weren't in front of the fire, but here today they had been neatly arrange in the perfect position for a small tete a tete.

Unsurely he walked towards a seat.

"No the other one" she stopped him before he sat in the chair closest to the exit. That chair was for her, so if he ever did make a dash for the window she would be able to intercept him.

Only when he was seated into the chair furthest away from any exit did Sansa leave the door, moving to an already prepared tray with tea.

"Would you like some tea Sandor?" she asked.

"Don't treat me like bloody honourable Little Bird" but his retort was half filled as he was more concerned with the fact that her windows had been barred shut, though the night wasn't as cold as usual. Suddenly he felt like a trapped little bird.

She paid no heed to his rejections and instead poured a large cup of steaming tea and walked forwards to him with the cup held out. On her journey however she _accidently _slipped. Before Sandor could react, the large cup of boiling tea spilled across him seeping underneath his armour and chainmail and into his clothes. He could feel the intense heat sting across his chest.

"Blazing hells woman! What the bloody hell do you think you're doing!" he roared at her leaping up in fury. Sansa was affected at all by his outrage when normally she would cower whenever he got mad.

"Oh I'm so sorry Sandor" she said unfazed, "How very clumsy of me"

Sandor felt like whatever she said was a planned speech making him all the more confused, surprised and bloody furious.

Before he could do anything more she was close. Very close. The mass of auburn locks under his nose and small delicate hands pressed to his chest.

"Here, we must get you out of those clothes at once"

"What!" he backed away in surprised.

She looked at him as if he was stupid.

"Of course you need to take of your wet clothes Sandor" she said moving closer.

He backed away further arms around himself protectively. _When did the Little Bird suddenly grow into a wolf?_

"Bleeding hells woman. I'll just go back to my quarters and get change" he said taking steps back until he reached the wall. He looked to the window hopefully. The _barred_ window.

"Nonense" the she wolf said every so politely, cornering her prey.

"You're wet. It's cold. You might get sick" she said only a foot away, "And I can't let my sworn shield get sick on my account". Her voice was a chilling whisper as she took the last step closer to him, almost standing on him.

"I've got my armour on" he fruitlessly reasoned, "I can't get it off myself"

She put her hands on his chest.

"Don't worry. _I'm here_" she almost sung and proceeded to unclasp and shift off his body armour.

Sandor felt like a victim. A hopeless deer being hunted. No. Not even a dear. A little bunny rabbit point blank to a crossbow was more like it.

Sandor watched her hopelessly as she removed bit by bit of armour, seeming far too knowledgeable and professional at stripping a man of his armour than she should be. She continued dropping his unneeded clothes onto the floor until he stood, back against the wall, naked from waist up.

When she stopped Sandor looked down and so her blushing at the sight of his vulnerable body. His mouth twitched. Perhaps now was the time to turn the tables. Scare her so she would never try something so uncomely again.

But then she looked up to him nervously and he could find the heart to scare her. She was his obsession. And he knew it. The only reason he hadn't left was before secretly every moment in her presence was bliss to him. Against his will he toyed with the thought that she might actually want him here. She might actually want _him_. He immersed himself into those blue eyes, losing every inch of him to them. Every moment trying to resist but those eyes just pulled him closer. Dissension stripping away from him, he raised a hand to cup the back of her head. And then he leaned. Closer. Closer. Watching her eyes flutter shut before taking a look at those pretty pink lips and closing his own.

Everything he ever dreamed of. Right now. Right here. He could feel her breath on his lips as he moved the last few centimetres.

"FUCKING HELL!" he screamed.

Suddenly he felt a jolt to his ribs and he yelled pushing her back. He leapt away fuming at his inappropriate actions a moment before or at the disruption he was not sure.

"Seven hells! What the hell were you doing!" he screamed at her pacing furiously. The Little Bird only looked at him as if she had suffered defeat.

"You" she said wide eyed and dejected, "You're not ticklish"

He gaped at her dumbfounded.

"That's what this is about!" he shouted, his arm flaying about like a wild man., "Trying to tickle me!"

She looked at him, cowering as usually her hand on one of the chairs defensively.

"I only wanted you to laugh"

He looked at her. She was incorrigible. She was an idiot. A Little stupid Bird.

"So you invite a grown man into your room! Strip him of his clothes! And put your arms around him! That's your idea of funny!" he yelled. She blushed furiously.

"I didn't mean it like that" she persisted.

Sandor groaned. No. He was going to deal with this right here and then.

Sansa looked to her feet ashamed at her actions and defeat. When she looked up Sandor was walking towards her. She clung to the chair in fear. His eyes were no longer angry but it was replaced by something else. Something hungry and determined.

"Do you have any idea of what could of happened?" he said stalking her actions as she moved away.

Sansa shifted around the room avoiding him, more frightened of that starved look then of his angry one.

"No" she answered. He moved closer. She retreated. The odds now in his favour.

"When you tease a man like this Little Bird. You pay the consequences" he told her.

Sansa moved back frightened, but something deep down and locked inside her, _wanted _this.

"What are you doing?" she quivered. Sandor sprinted the last few steps and hauled her into the air, carrying her swiftly and dumping her onto her bed, clambering on top of her small form.

"I'm about to teach you what happens when you let a grown man stay with you alone in your bedroom" he told her. His face edge close to hers until their noses touch. Sansa felt a deep flood of warmth in her belly and an ache between her legs as she realised how much she wanted this.

She closed her eyes, unresisting and welcoming. Even smiling faintly.

She heard a hoarse hollow laugh.

Her eyes snapped open.

Sandor was laughing breathlessly.

Not knowing whether to be proud that she made him laugh or disappointed she sat up straight.

"What?" she questioned. Sandor moved himself off her bed and continued to laugh.

Sansa frowned.

"What!" she asked again, angry now. When he failed to answer she took a pillow and threw it at his back as he sat on her bed.

"Relax Little Bird. If I wanted you I would've taken you all those years back at Black Water" he told her laughing.

But she was not happy. She gave him a firm push off the bed which only moved him ever so slightly.

"I don't see how it's funny" she told him. He looked back at her and smiled. Her heart missed a few beats.

"I'm sorry for teasing you Little Bird but that's for trying to tickle me" he told her still as light hearted as she ever saw him. He leaned forward, dizzy with laughter and that he didn't even think as he pecked her lips ever so gently.

"There. We're even" he said and proceeded to quickly pick up his clothes strewn on the floor, unbar the door and exit without another word.

Sansa sat on her bed, utterly confused and embarrassed. She thought over the moment before she shrieked in annoyance and tumbled under the covers too embarrassed to think.

**A/N:**

Wow... this is some fluff. But hey I write light hearted and funny and G.R.R.M writes... incest...and cool stuff (not incest)... but not light hearted and funny and we need a little bit of it.

Enjoy. Review. Damn this was a long one. 


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